Drunken Spartan
by BadAss 99
Summary: Kratos gets pissed off in an alehouse and kicks some drunken ass...


**Drunken Spartan by BadAss 99 **

"**S**o, I find myself in a walled with a massive hinged wooden floor that's ninety seconds away from falling open and sending me plummeting three miles to a particularly unpleasant form of instant death, the only way out has been barred by a heavy portcullis, and, to top it all off, nearly two dozen slavering saw-toothed zombie monsters and howling, spell-casting sirens are being teleported in by the hellish magic of Ares. I make a dash for the lever, but a glowing red barrier jumps up in front of me! I back away, and turn around, coming face to face with a drooling zombie warrior…he brings his wicked serrated axe to my throat…one of the sirens leans towards me, her jaws lolling open…I'm trapped! What am I gonna do? There's no way out of this one…"

Kratos paused for a moment, letting his story sink in. One of the pretty teenage bar girls he'd just met started giggling, balancing her mug of beer on her lap, while the other stared at the mighty Spartan, genuine astonishment on her face. "Oh my God! It must have been terrifying!" she gasped. Kratos grinned, resting his muscular frame against the rough wooden counter of the bar. "Well…I was a bit concerned, to be sure," he said wryly. "But I've got out of worse scrapes time and time again, so I wasn't too worried."

"So…then what did you do?" piped up the other girl, who'd just stopped giggling. "How did you get out?"

Kratos drained his beer in a single gulp, wiped his mouth and continued with his story. "First, I assessed the situation – by decapitating the zombie and used his severed head to break the back of that bloody siren. Then I impaled two more zombies on my Blades of Chaos and yo-yoed them around the room, knocking over the rest of the bastards. A blocked a few spells from a squealing siren, before tearing her limbs off and hurling her blood-spattered corpse into the wall." He paused for breath.

"Then some bastard beat me over the head with a nail-studded club, and I, y'know, got a bit miffed. So I punched a hole in his face and pulled out his brain, and ate it in front of him. Another siren tried to whack me from behind, so I broke her in half and beat her to death with her own ribs. Then I electrocuted the rest of the buggers with Poseidon's Rage and broke the neck of the remaining siren with a well-aimed kick."

The bargirls were looking slightly less enthusiastic now. One had gone bright green, while the other was looking rather pale. "Okay…and then what?" asked the green one.

"About then, the barrier blocking off the lever disappeared, so I grabbed the lever and walked out the door. A few more zombies tried to accost me on the way, so I sliced them up like mouldy salamis and filled my water bottle with their hot, stinking blood. So, what did you think? Any questions?"

"Uh…no…not really," mumbled the pale bargirl, while her companion vomited noisily into her empty beer mug. "We're just going to…um…" she trailed off.

The door to the alehouse slammed open, and a heavily intoxicated Spartan soldier marched up to the bar. "Beer me," he told the bartender, who protested.

"I think you've have had enough already," he said.

"Hey, fuck you, man," snarled the soldier, picking the bartender up by the throat. The bar went deathly quiet. Some people stood up and started to move towards the soldier.

The soldier drew his sword. "Fuck right off, the lot of you," he said loudly. He turned back to the bartender. "I _said_, beer me."

The bartender had gone blue. He was making loud choking noises. The soldier tightened his grip.

"Hey, you can't do that!" one of the bargirls said, her pallor now replaced by an angry flush. "Accosting the bartender is a criminal offence!"

"Says who, baby?" leered the homicidal soldier. "You?"

"No. Me," snapped Kratos, deciding that the best way to win the hearts of the two girls was with some mindless violence.

"And just who the fuck are you, mate?" said the soldier, raising his word.

"The Spartan, that's who!" roared Kratos, dodging a drunken sword-swing and breaking the soldier's nose, jaw, left cheekbone and three of his ribs with a single titanic punch. Blood fountained from the man's face, drenching the bartop. Spasming in agony, the soldier dropped the gagging bartender. "You…you bastard…" choked the soldier, his shattered jaw hanging loosely. Kratos stamped on his shoulder, breaking his right arm and knocking him unconscious with the hideous pain.

Some of the soldier's drunken associates, sitting at a nearby table, watched the systematic demolition of their friend, and hurled themselves at Kratos, knives in hands. Kratos kicked one of them in the stomach, his inhuman strength and nail-studded boots smashing the man's pelvis and lacerating his bowels. The drunk squealed, collapsing to the floor in raw agony. Some of the barflies started to cheer. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

The second man stabbed Kratos in the knee. The big Spartan merely grunted in pain before drawing his Blades of Chaos and chopping the man's head off in an explosion of blood. The kill was celebrated y a chorus of drunken cheers.

The third one saw the fate of his two comrades and started to back away, but was pushed back towards Kratos by the blood-crazed onlookers. A single punch from Kratos sent the man flying seven feet through the air, crashing unconscious into a barstool.

One of the bargirls started clapping, her earlier distaste forgotten. "Go, Kratos!"

Kratos was now being cheered on by the entire bar, not least by the grateful bartender. As a gang of shit-faced punks closed on the Spartan, spoiling drunkenly for a fight, the cheering reached a crescendo. "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"

The drunks converged on Kratos, fists flying. Three of them died instantly as the Spartan's blades dismembered them with practised ease, and now people were beginning to take bets on how long the remaining punks would survive. "Four seconds! No, three!"

Another punk was scissored up by the merciless Spartan, and still more drunks and crazies joined the fray. Soon, the bar was a maelstrom of drunken slaughter, with Kratos at the centre of it. Swords flashed, bows were drawn, blood splattered, and Kratos hacked and slashed away in an orgy of destruction.

Finally, his bloodlust sated, Kratos carved a gory path through the mêlée, finally getting back to his seat next to the two adoring bargirls. Some poor fool had taken the Spartan's barstool during the fight, so Kratos hurled him screaming into the middle of the battle.

Taking his seat, Kratos ordered a beer from the bartender, who willingly gave it to him for free. The two bargirls kissed him elatedly. "That was amazing, Kratos! What a battle!"

Kratos shrugged. "All in a day's work. Who wants to hear another story?"


End file.
